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You're My Best Friend (Pt. 1)
It was around midnight when the trained pulled out of the west station. Only one passenger got off of the train at Big Boo City, a certain guard that quit her job just 24 hours ago. Dibby looked into the Forever Forest with a quiet, radiant (?) happiness; after many years, she has forgotten the smell of her home. That's when Dibby noticed a figure, more a shadow, stepped out from behind the base of the ticket booth and started to move toward her. There was just enough light in the train station to see that the figure in black was holding a paper envelope, Dibby's name printed neatly on the front of it. "Welcome back, Dibby." The voice echoed emptily along the walls of the train station; a small, stocky, lackluster raven with dark circles under his eyes emerged from the darkness, his gold eyes trained on the aberration. “It's good to see you, Francis.” “Did I scare ya? Were you afraid that it wasn't me?” A friendly fist crashed into Dibby’s left shoulder. God, it has been years -- perhaps even decades -- since Dibby has last stepped foot onto Boo Kingdom* soil. According to Francis, the Boo Kingdom fell into an economic depression. Famine and disease ravished every cornerstone, truckloads of outsourced employees drove haphazardly on the streets, and child labor was a common day occurrence. “If I say yes, will you take me out to eat? I’m starving.” Francis’ shit-eating grin sneered coyly as he pushed through the large doors of the train station. Big Boo City glowed with a soft white light as the moon hung over it. As the daylight receded and the silent streets began to cool, automatic lights flicked on to push back the darkness. No one moved in the streets. Newspapers fluttered along the pavement like capering ghosts, stopping here and there to mingle with other and then moving on. The city was unburdened with the sounds of traffic, and the buildings appeared empty. Only the mindless lights and the hum of power lines remained. It quickly became obvious that something was wrong. "Did I come at a bad time?" Dibby was afraid to ask the question, in fear of the response. Francis stared at her vacantly. "It's always like this. No one likes being outside at 9 o'clock on a Sunday." He looked away for a brief moment, his eyes darting from one street corner to the next. What was he afraid of? They walked down the cobblestone street with a snail's pace, covering only 5 blocks within twenty minutes. It didn't help that the wind pelted their faces like needles. Abruptly, Francis turned into a hidden walkway, and two large doors greeted them. Admittedly, Dibby was a little too excited to have dinner with the small raven, he has never been curdious enough to warrant any pleasurable dining experience. Perhaps Francis has matured over the last few years. It was nothing but a low-brow bar. Stacks and tiers of bottles rose to impossible heights. They seemed to go off into the distance endlessly. A few musty-looking figures were hunched over the long tables here and there, half-hidden by piles of bottles. One could hear an occasional muffled groan. Hunger snarled within Dibby, mounting from belly to throat, from throat to mouth. Francis seemed to take notice of this, and decided to order a table for two. The tables were surprisingly well-kept; the red tablecloth was washed with obvious care and diligence. Francis ordered a steak with a side of fries for himself, not bothering to order anything for Dibby. She didn't seem to mind; Francis was always a fat fuck. ' '''There was an unnatural silence over the table as they -- Francis -- waited for their dinner. When the thwomp arrived with their food, she "wore" a skimpy dress and “held” a lit cigarette in her mouth, taking a few puffs before laying the food on the table. “So, why are you here, Dibby? Your letter wasn’t the most… enlightening thing this side of The Boo Kingdom." Dibby took in a deep breath. “I need your help,” she relaxed her “fingers” on the tablecloth, taking in a long sigh. “Now, I know you’ve always wanted to… be a brawler.” His eyes widened like a lovesick dog; ''if only he knew, Dibby thought to herself. “I have a proposal for you...” Dibby held up her last paycheck of 300 coins; more than enough for a one way train ticket to Glitzville. “... I want you to have this,” she slid the paycheck across the table. Francis raised his eyebrow cautiously, resting his “wings” (feet?) on the table. “What’s the catch?” “Th-the catch… yeah.” Dibby stammered. The lost cause of words walked away with her nerves as she braced for the inevitable retort. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I… I need your help. Queen Boo, I-I-I --” “Spit it out you Slimer wanna-be!” “I need your boys to do something about her! Poison her, maim her, I don’t care. Make her unfit to rule!” Francis spat out his food and shoved his plate away, leaning forward. "What the hell are you talking about?! Keep your damn voice down." He eyed the diner for a moment before pulling Dibby in closer. “Now. Listen carefully. If you say anything but yes or no, if you alibi or try to drift into anything but a direct, straight answer, I'll kick you so -" "Relax, Francis. I get your shtick." She pushed Francis back into his leather seat with an OOF. She dusted off her shoulder. “I know that this is bizarre, even out of character. But what do you expect me to do? Did you think I’d stand back and watch these people - MY people - suffer?” The tense atmosphere won them the attention of multiple attendees. Boo’s from across the bar floated to the ceiling to overhear the ruckus. Francis sat there, gathering his consonance and snarky comebacks as Dibby waited patiently for the check. God only knows Francis wouldn’t forward his side of the bill. Finally, Francis spoke. “What kind of message can a washed-up security guard bring to the table? You're miserable, Dibby.” A fringe of guilt crept up Dibby's spine like a surge of needles. He was right, and there was no doubting that. Dibby chewed on her last fry sparingly, making sure to savor the crunchy, GMO-injected goodness. The pinnacle of casual dining. “People here don’t want change!” He chuckled to himself, his eyes wandering to an intoxicated toad at the bar, as if trying to prove his point. “They would rather wallow here in their misery for the rest of eternity; I’ve seen people come, I’ve seen people go. They never change.” The toad got up from his seat at the bar and stumbled haphazardly across the diner, oblivious to their judging gazes. Dibby was lost in frustration and confusion. The only person she thought she could trust, her only childhood friend, now looks at her in disgust and agitation. What has she done? “I understand that you’re taken aback by my… suggestion. But understand that I’m going to do something, with or without your help.” Dibby got up from her seat, leaving a measly three coins as a tip. She could only sacrifice a tired gaze at Francis before she pushed through the large doors of the bar.